


Hoofprints in the Snow

by erikssiren



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluffy, Very fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 09:29:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2646947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erikssiren/pseuds/erikssiren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lola and Narcisse spend Christmas morning with their daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hoofprints in the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> The characters are not mine, but the story is. Please don't copy this and claim it as your own. There has been a problem with this lately and I wanted to add this here.
> 
> Wow my second fic in two days! This is not typical, guys, but I guess when the muse strikes...This came to me when I woke up this morning and I literally finished it about 15 minutes before posting. So any grammar/spelling mistakes are mine and I apologize. This is just a little fluffy Christmas fic but I hope you enjoy it.

Lola woke from a warm, comforted sleep to the sounds of whispers: the low bass tones of her husband and the high childish hisses of their daughter. Cracking her eyes open she saw Stephane sitting in a chair near the bed with Mary in his lap, her dark curls just like Lola’s but her mischievous grin all her father’s.

Mary glanced over at her and seeing her mother awake, squealed with delight before launching herself towards her. “Merry Christmas mother!” She cried, her trajectory aborted by her father’s quick reflexes and strong arms.

“Careful, Mary,” he admonished. The little girl apologized quickly before climbing slowly into bed beside her, while Lola simply smiled and struggled to sit up. Her ever-growing belly made her feel slow and lumbering, like a bear.

“Merry Christmas my darling girl,” Lola said, leaning over to kiss her daughter’s cheek. The five-year-old giggled before launching off the bed.

“We have to look,” she insisted as she raced over to one of their bedroom windows.

“Whatever for?” Stéphane asked as he stood up to follow Mary.

“Hoof prints,” she almost whispered in awe. “We have to see if he came.”

Her husband looked over at Lola with confusion clear on his face. She laughed. “One of Greer’s stepdaughters told all the children the story of a man named Nicholas who comes in the night to deliver gifts.” She dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “They say he has a sled driven by reindeer.”

“Well then,” Stéphane said as he scooped Mary into his arms, “Let’s take a look.” He threw open the closest window and the two peered out, their twin expressions of curiosity making Lola smile. If someone had told her six years ago this would be her future, she’d be very hard-pressed to believe them. Few would have believed that Lord Stephane Narcisse, the most feared man at court, would be capable of this domestic scene. Bust just as he had influenced her, over time she influenced him. The sight of this man, her husband, with their child filled her with a love she didn’t know was possible.   
But it was bittersweet.

She had not seen her son for nearly six months; Francis had insisted Jean start his tutoring with the other royal children and sent him off only a week after his seventh birthday. She missed the mornings like this with him, missed the child he could have been if not for his royal father.

The sound of laughter brought Lola’s declining mood to a halt and watched with a smile of her own as Stéphane tickled their daughter almost mercilessly and she squealed with delight. Her husband caught her gaze and his smile turned knowing.

“Why don’t you find your nanny and get dressed. I think there is a pile of presents downstairs waiting for us to open,” he whispered conspiratorially as he set her down. The moment her feet touched the ground she was running, out of their door and down the hall.

“She’s as spirited as her namesake,” Stéphane commented as he walked back to bed and sat beside his wife. Lola knew he tried to be congenial with the queen for her sake but still had little love for Mary Queen of Scots.

Lola said nothing, but leaned forward for a kiss, which he readily gave.

“I know that look,” he said after they parted. “And I know you wish your son could be with us. As do I.” He placed one of his hands over hers where they sat folded over her belly. “I wish you would have let me talk to the king, convince him to let Jean-Philippe come here.”

“We both know what lengths you can go to, to get what you want,” Lola said with laughter in her voice. “But I told you: you should use that power for more important things.”

“Lola this is important,” he insisted. “Your happiness is important. Surely I’ve proved that by now?” He smirked, a grin she recognized from their early days of courting. Or pursuing, or whatever was best to describe their beginnings.

“Yes, proved it many times over,” she placated. “But I’ll see him tonight at the feast and sent a gift to the castle for him to receive when he arrives there later today. I knew this would happen, he’s of royal blood.” She lifted his hand and kissed it gently. “We have Mary, and this one soon,” she placed one of her hands back over her swelling stomach while the other grasped her husband’s hand gently. “I won’t let my desire for my first born to overshadow my love for our children.”

Stéphane stared at her at awe before placing another kiss, this one a little deeper than before, on her lips. “You are a remarkable woman,” he breathed when they parted slightly. “I’m still not quite sure how I deserve you.”

Lola’s retort was cut off by the pattering of feet, their only warning before their door swung open again and Mary raced inside.

“My, that was quick,” Lola noted with a laugh as Mary scrambled onto their bed with the help of her father. She flopped into the bed beside her mother, her head resting against Lola’s chest.

“Father said there were presents,” she huffed. “And I wanted to be dress as fast as possible so we could open them!” She raised her head and glanced at her mother’s nightgown. “Why aren’t you dressed yet mother? Don’t you want presents?”

Both Lola and Stéphane laughed before her husband, who Lola then noted was too dressed, scooped up their daughter. “It’s Christmas, little one, your mother is allowed to lie in bed a moment longer than usual before dressing. But why don’t we go downstairs and see what they are making in the kitchen?” He turned back to Lola and, with his daughter squirming in his arms, leaned down for one last kiss.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispered.

“Merry Christmas.”

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone interested, here is a link to more information about St. Nicholas, the story Lola mentions (I made up the part about the sled, though. I know that part isn't accurate as far as the St. Nicholas/Santa Claus mythology for the time but Reign isn't exactly known for its historical accuracy): http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Nicholas


End file.
